


Ash

by ThereAreNoLines



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereAreNoLines/pseuds/ThereAreNoLines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2x23. Spencer reflects while waiting for Hanna to wake up. (AU-ish)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash

She tastes like ash, Spencer notes, as she brushes her lips against Hanna’s fingertips. She’s holding her wrist in her right hand, tracing the grimy plastic of her hospital bracelet, her name clearly displayed in block letters. She doesn’t know what’s possessing her to kiss Hanna’s hand, but it’s the only thing she can think of to do. Ashley isn’t there yet and neither are Emily or Aria. Tom would be useless – he’s not even on her medical consent form anyway. (It’s probably for the best.)

So she’s alone with Hanna, and Hanna’s even more alone because she’s unconscious, and probably terrified, so Spencer is kissing her fingertips and praying that some part of it gets through to her. If she had just gotten there a little bit sooner…she shakes her head, refusing to complete the thought. (Her stomach still twists in guilt anyway.)

Jenna’s sitting in the ICU somewhere, but her thoughts are only with her for a brief moment before they return to Hanna. Her hair has been singed short by the blast, and Spencer spares a small smile for the outrage that’s sure to follow when she wakes. If there’s anything that will motivate Hanna to singlehandedly hunt down and gut A, it’s damage to her beloved blonde locks. Even Spencer has to admit…it’s a shame to see them go. She reaches out and tweaks the frayed ends. Hanna is perfumed by smoke now, smoke and disinfectant. (That’s what bothers her most, it’s like she’s dead.)

She’s your friend, Spencer tells herself to calm the sudden gaping hole where her stomach should be, to clear the thickness in her chest, the ache in her heart. She’s your friend, and you’re scared for her. But she still can’t help but wonder if those thickly lashed eyes of hers will flutter open like all the fairytales say if her lips descend on hers.

(She tastes like ash.)


End file.
